


Winds of Change

by BarPurple



Series: Steampunk RumBelle [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, F/M, Rumbelle Christmas in July 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 21:52:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11586912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: An inventor and an outcast are about to change the world. Those in power are willing to throw a spanner in the works to maintain the status quo, but the cogs will turn and the future won’t be denied; is the price of progress one worth paying?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Of_Princes_and_Savages](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Princes_and_Savages/gifts).



Belle frowned as she read the newspaper she had bought from the kiosk at Stepney Tram Station. It was only the shuffling from the other passengers and the chugging of the approaching steam-tram’s engine that prevented her from missing the 8:17. Once she had taken her seat she re-read the print that had her so distracted.

Mr. and Mrs. Philip Greene are pleased to announce the engagement of their adopted daughter, Miss Zelena Greene to Mr Gaston Legume, eldest son of Mr. and Mrs. Garrick Legume. An August wedding is planned at Roebury All Saints Church in Northumberland.

It was either Fate, or poor planning that had seen Gaston’s second engagement announcement published two years to the day after his first. The first one had featured her name, and she’d carefully clipped it from the newspaper to paste it on the first page of what she had thought would become her wedding scrapbook. She snorted at how naïve she had been, thinking a perfect fairy tale wedding would solve all of her dissatisfaction with her life; as if shackling herself to a brute like Gaston would have given her the freedom she craved. It had only taken a few months for him to reveal his true colours; how close she had come to a life of misery still made her stomach clench. As the steam-tram wound its way through the streets towards the river, she mused at how much her world had changed in a season.

_Three Months Ago_

Belle was weary from the ball last night, she had not wanted a large affair for her birthday, but Papa had insisted. At first he countered her suggestion of a small dinner by pointing out that his little girl didn’t turn twenty-one every day and surely she could understand his desire to spoil her. When she continued to resist his grand plans he had snapped that this wasn’t just about her, he had a position to maintain in society and he would not have people whispering that his daughter was strange for not wanting a proper birthday celebration for such a milestone year. Heaven forbid if people got the idea that there was to be no grand ball for her birthday because he could not afford to provide one for her. After listening to the predicted woes of what that sort of unfounded gossip could do to the French Mining Company Belle had acquiesced. She had tried to be a dutiful and grateful daughter as Papa increased the guest list to the point where she barely knew a fifth of the people attending the ostentatious event. The only benefit of all of those strangers was that with so many people demanding her time for a dance, or pausing to engage in idle chat as they wished her many happy returns was that Gaston had had no chance to get her alone and pressure her into setting a date for the wedding. 

That she was running out of reasons to put off setting a date was worrying her. She had hoped that by now she would have been able to make Papa understand that she did not wish to marry Gaston, but he continued to dismiss her concerns. A gentle knock at the library door roused her from her desperate and increasingly futile dreams of escape. She managed to pull a smile onto her face as the young maid bobbed a curtsey.

“Yes Ashley.”

“Sorry to disturb you Miss, but there is a gentleman to see you, a lawyer, Miss.”

Belle frowned at the card Ashley handed her; “Are you sure he wants to see me? Surely he is here for Papa?”

“Oh no, Miss. He expressly asked to see Miss Isabelle Rosa French.”

Belle winced a little at her full name, these days she only ever heard it when Papa was particularly vexed with her, and even then he never uttered her middle name.

“Very well, I shall see him in the drawing room. Could you please bring us some coffee, Ashley?”

The maid hurried out and Belle took a moment to compose herself, her curiosity washing away the lingering exhaustion from last night. Ashley had left the door to the drawing room open just enough for Belle to observe her unexpected guest for a moment before she announced herself. He was sombrely dressed in tones of black and grey as one would expect for a man of the law, but his cravat and cuffs were bright flashes of colour that gave him the air of a dandy. Belle wasn’t sure what to make of him; a few years ago she would have thought him an interesting character and happily greeted him, but since her engagement she had learned that looks could be deceiving and had come to doubt her initial impressions of people; she had been proved drastically wrong about Gaston after all. She steeled her spine and entered the room.

“Good morning,” She looked at the card he had presented to Ashley, “Mr Hatter. I am Isabelle Rosa French.”

He greeted her with a tight bow and a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Good morning Miss French. May I offer my belated felicitations upon your coming of age.”

Before Belle had a chance to utter a polite thank you he bounded across the room to the table where he had laid out several piles of documents.

“It is the occasion of your twenty-first birthday that necessitates my visit this morning. As you may be aware my firm of Cheshire and Raupo have provided legal services for your family for three generations…”

Belle held up her hand to interrupt him; Mr Hatter paused and cocked his head to one side as he waited for her to speak.

“You are mistaken, sir. My father has always used Miller and Hart for legal matters.”

Mr Hatter pressed his hand to his chest; “My apologies, Miss French. I should have more correctly said that my firm has represented the Monroe family for that period of time.”

Belle blinked; it was a day for rarely spoken names, “My mother’s family.”

“Quite,” He gestured to the table, “May we be seated? I am afraid this may take some time.”

He waited until Belle had settled herself at the table before dramatically flicking his coattails and taking the seat across from her. Belle bit her bottom lip to hide her smile, she had been right that Mr Hatter had a touch of a dandy side about him. He plucked the first page from one of his piles and flicked his eyes over it, he looked her in the eye as he spoke; “Mrs Colette French, nee Monroe, made certain arrangements in her Last Will and Testament, all others were dealt with in a timely fashion after her passing, but the largest one, the one concerning you had to wait until you came of age…”

The next hour left Belle reeling in stunned amazement, she barely noticed Ashley deliver the coffee she had requested. Her mother had left her an inheritance that amounted to seven thousand pounds a year, money that was hers and hers alone; money which her mother had hoped would be used to ‘pursue her passion in life with freedom and joy’.

Belle took a sip of the now lukewarm coffee to bring some moisture to her dry mouth.

“I’m free.”

She hadn’t realised that she had spoken aloud until she saw Mr Hatter’s eyes dart toward the gaudy engagement ring on her finger. He smiled softly, this time emotion showed in his eyes, although Belle could not say what emotion it was.

“Yes, Miss French, you are now a woman of independent means, and are free to do as you choose.”

The door to the room banged open and Papa blustered in, drawing up short when he saw Mr Hatter, who rose to his feet in greeting.

“Belle? The maid said that you were receiving a gentleman, I expected to find you and Gaston planning the wedding, at last.”

Belle made the introductions and cringed as Papa’s eyes narrowed at the name of Cheshire and Raupo. He refused to shake Mr Hatter’s offered hand.

“What nonsense has your mother dropped in my lap now?”

Belle tensed, but for the first time in longer than she cared to remember she was not bracing herself in fear, a long forgotten feeling of courage began to bloom within her. Mr Hatter took a moment to briefly outline the reason for his visit, without divulging any fine details to Papa; he really was a very good lawyer. As usual her father tried to twist the whole situation into being about Gaston.

“Not that you need to worry about finances once you are wed, but this does mean that Gaston can begin looking for a larger house for the two of you, hey Belle?”

Mr Hatter cleared his throat in a dry deliberate way that Belle was sure all lawyers learned at the Inns of Court. 

“Sir Maurice, I feel at this juncture I must make clear that the stipulations of the Will are very clear, this income belongs solely to Miss French and will remain under her control regardless of her marital state.”

Her father turned red in the face, a signal that Belle recognized as the beginning of a fit of spleen. She did not have to sit and listen to his ranting any more. She rose sharply to her feet and dragged the hated engagement ring from her finger and tossed it at him.

“I am breaking the engagement! You arranged the damned thing so you can return this to Mr Legume. I have told you for months that he and I are ill suited, but you have refused to listen, you have ignored my wishes at every turn, reminding me that I am dependent upon the goodwill of you or him. Well I am not dependant anymore! Thanks to Mother I am free, free of him, free of you, free to follow in her footsteps and make a difference in the world!”

Sir Maurice took a step back in the face of her rage, but he quickly recovered and advanced on her brandishing the ring. Belle held her ground and raised her chin defiantly to meet his eye.

“Now listen to me, missy. You cannot break a near two year engagement; people will brand you a fallen woman. It that what you want, hum? To bring shame upon my name? Well, is it?”

Freedom was a heady brew, an elixir than made her bold and brave, she laughed wryly at her father’s well-worn tactics, the look of confusion on his face only fanning the flames of her burning bridges.

“Mr Hatter, as I understood matters I have immediate access to the funds?”

“Yes Miss.”

“In that case, I would like to continue to use the services of your firm. I will need to find accommodation until you can find me a suitable house. Would you mind waiting for me while I pack?”

Her father’s face flushed an ugly brick red, he jabbed his finger in her face and snarled; “Oh no! You’ll take nothing out of my house you ungrateful child.”

Belle’s eyes narrowed as she truly saw what her father thought of her, she had always tried to understand his rages and frustrations, to make herself believe that her wanted the best for her, that he loved her; now she realised that she had been blind, her father only saw her as a way to get what he wanted. She blinked hard refusing to let the turbulent emotion within her manifest as tears.

“Very well, Mr Hatter are you ready to leave now?”

“I am at your disposal Miss French.”

Her father reached for her arm, but Mr Hatter swiftly stepped in front of him, protecting Belle from his grasp.

“Sir Maurice, should you attempt to prevent me or my client from leaving your home this will become a legal matter; a very public and very messy legal matter.”

The suggestion of public humiliation was enough to make Sir Maurice step back, he stood glaring in the corner of the room as Mr Hatter gathered his papers and offered his arm to Belle. He trailed after them as they made their way to the front door.

“You’ll see sense Belle. Your Mother’s research was pointless and brought nothing but shame and failure. Follow in her footsteps and you will end as badly as she did.”  
Belle squared her shoulders and stepped across the threshold and into freedom.

 

_Now_

The steam-tram was crossing the river and the hustle and bustle of the ships provided a welcome distraction as Belle shook away the difficult memories of that day. With the benefit of distance and hind-sight Belle could understand that her Father hadn't been a good parent. Maurice French had only thought about expanding his business empire, and a union between the two largest coal mining families in the country would have done just that, regardless of the fact that his daughter had nothing in common with the self-obsessed, arrogant and violent man. 

Oh Gaston had been a dream during their courtship, the perfect gentleman who asked about her interests and listened with apparent pleasure as she talked about the latest advances in metal casting and clockwork. Once the engagement had been confirmed Belle discovered that he was not a book to be judged by his cover; the mask of tender suitor had fallen away rapidly and Gaston had begun yawning when she tried to talk about anything other than him; he had laughed at her books and taken to plucking them from her hands when he found her reading. When she had tried to resist his physical advances her had called her foul names and pressed his kisses on her anyway, taking delight in pointing out that once they were wed he would be able to punish her for refusing him. Belle shuddered as she recalled him hissing in her ear how he would bring her into line in graphic detail. 

Belle blew out a sigh; now Gaston had clearly moved on her father would have to stop pushing her to reconciliation. He had sent her telegrams every day in the first month after she had moved out on her own, messages of cajoling and badgering that she had given up replying to after a time. He had not listened to her arguments against the marriage in person and via the printed word she held even less sway over him. Maybe now with this matter laid to rest, they could begin to repair their relationship, although they would never be close, Belle would like them to be cordial. With that hopeful thought in mind Belle tucked the newspaper into the pocket of her greatcoat and prepared to disembark as the steam-tram approached the Isle of Dogs.


	2. Chapter 2

The Inventors Market on the Isle of Dogs was one of Belle’s favourite places in the London. It thrummed with life and ideas; here the spirit of invention was a tangible force infusing the very air. Unlike the rather stuffy coffee houses in the City where invention was discussed in abstract terms, the people here took a hands-on approach. It was a frequent sight to witness mechanisms for sale being stripped down and redesigned on the stalls. New ideas were tested on the spot while the debate about the best way to implement them was still going on. The resulting explosions from failures punctuated the pervading noise, along with the arguments that would often break out and occasionally devolved into fisticuffs, but most ruffled feathers were soothed with a strong cup of tea, which was the only beverage the vendors in the market sold, and was considered by all who worked there to be the elixir of life. A belief Belle shared these days, a preference that would appal her father and his associates who believed tea to be a beverage for commoners.

Belle paused by the main gate to take a moment to read the handbills that were pasted there. Several announced upcoming talks and demonstrations for new inventions, some were political, calling for better working conditions in the countries factories and mills, and some advertised cheaper airship travel. Belle caught sight of the name Jinx and edged closer to read the simple poster. Jinx was a tireless activist for workers’ rights, but this past year the mysterious writer had had a single focus, the Steelskin Malady, a shocking industrial disease that disfigured the skin and eyes. The mainstream press had placed the blame firmly on the slovenly work ethic of those employed in Oz Guild’s East End factory, but Jinx was still expounding the theory that the owners had been negligent. To Belle’s mind Jinx offered a sound view-point, but her father had sided firmly with the Greene family, who owned Oz Guild and claimed the workers were to blame. Miss Zelena Greene had made some scathing remarks in the Gazette about how the affected workers were trying to destroy her good family name, and how as lazy slanderers and saboteurs they deserved no sympathy or pity. Based on those comments alone she was a perfect match for Gaston, who also had no time or care for people he thought beneath him, which in Belle’s experience encompassed the majority of the population. Another steam-tram arrived and brought a fresh swell of people making lingering any longer impractical, so Belle joined the throng and moved along into the excitement of the market.

The Isle of Dogs was the best place to get custom made tools. Belle could have ordered anything from one of the manufacturing houses on Bond Street, but the smiths there were often more concerned with style over substance, Belle didn’t want her tools to look pretty if it meant they didn’t perform their function. The Isle Market had no such stylistic aspirations, here function ruled supreme and the smiths would take measurements of individual users to ensure the tool was a perfect fit, which Belle appreciated since her hands were too small to use standard sizes comfortably. Today she was to collect a set of wrenches that she’d ordered a few weeks ago.

Walking past the Trade Exchange building, where journeyman workers looked for someone to hire them for the day, she suddenly became aware that the raised voices she was hearing weren’t just the advertising cries of the workers. A figure was shoved out of the crowd and crashed into her. In a tangle of limbs Belle sprawled on the ground under the body of the stranger. The impact of the fall had knocked the breath from her, leaving her with no air in her lungs to gasp at the sight of the glittering face so close to hers. 

“I’m sorry, Miss. I’m so sorry.”

He tried to scramble off her, but was hauled into the air by Hordor, one of the longshoremen who worked the docks. Belle had dealt with him in the past when she had a shipment of glass arriving, and found him to be a distasteful bully.

“Get off her, you filthy Croc!”

Hordor shook the man by the scruff of his neck. Belle drew in a breath and took a proper look at the Steelskin sufferer. The illustrations in the newspapers had not prepared her for how thickly the poor soul’s skin was covered in scales, nor could any monochrome picture inform her of how they glittered and gleamed in the light. The images had made the altered eyes look monstrous and cold, but Belle found the odd reptilian pupils to be tender, even though at the moment they were filled with fear. He was really quite beautiful.

Clearly Hordor was among those who believed the sufferers were less than human and deserving of abuse. Belle snatched her hand away from one of the longshoremen who was attempting to help her to her feet, and got up by herself. Hordor set the Steelskined man on his feet and slapped the back of his head.

“Tell the lady you are sorry, Croc.”

Before the man could obey, Belle stepped forward and jabbed Hordor in the chest; “It is not his apology I require. You shoved him, the fault is yours.”

Hordor sneered at her, but she refused to back down, she would not stand to see a person bullied, she had been on the receiving end of that behaviour far too often. After a long uncomfortable moment Hordor gave her a mocking bow.

“Sorry to have offended your delicate sensibilities missus.”

The sniggers from his crew made Belle very aware of the precarious situation she had gotten herself into; her new found bravery was making her reckless. Even as she told herself she should be cautious, Hordor reached for the Steelskined man again and Belle found her feet moving to place herself in front of the victim of Hordor’s bullying.

“Was only going to take out the trash for you missus.”

She jutted her chin at him and waved a hand to indicate him and his crew; “Off you go then.”

Hordor snorted and spat at her feet; “Come on lads, looks like she’s one of those freaks who want to know how far the Croc’s scales go,” He grabbed his crotch and leered, 

“Once you’re done with him I’ll be happy to show you what a real man looks like.”

With that final insult to the both of them Hordor and his men swaggered away. Belle huffed a breath and hoped her blush at Hordor’s crude comment wasn’t too obvious; she’d never thought to wonder if Steelskin affected the whole body, but now her curiosity was piqued. She gave herself a mental shake, and turned to the man who was stooping to retrieve his pack from the ground.

“Are you alright?”

He blinked at her gentle question and nodded cautiously; “Yes, thank you Miss. Are you alright after that fall?”

She suspected she’d had a bruised rump, but she said; “Oh quite well, thank you.”

They stood in awkward silence for a moment as the market hustled around them. The man gave her a weary sigh and peeled off one of his gloves. He waved his bare sparkling hand at her.

“I’m like this all over. Just like every poor sod who worked at that damn place. You seen enough to satisfy? Because if you want to see more we can make a deal.”

Belle was stunned, not just by what his words were implying, but by his dispassionate tone. How many times had he offered to sell himself in this way?

“What on Earth would you get out of such a deal?”

He frowned at her as if she’d said something ridiculously unbelievable. 

“Erm, money. Even a Croc needs to eat.”

Belle felt foolish for not having realised how hard his life must be. Oz Guild had fired all those affected, and the constant slandering in the press had made it near impossible for them to find other employment. A charity had been set up to provide homes for the children when the Government passed a bill stating the Steelskins were unfit parents. Reading about the events in the newspapers and listening to the wives of her father’s friends gossip about it over coffee Belle had found it all tragic in an abstract way, but with this poor man in front of her the hardships all Steelskins had faced became harshly apparent. His face was pinched as if he hadn’t eaten a good meal in a long while, his clothes clearly had been of good quality, but were stained and patched; the leather of his long coat and boots was cracked and scuffed. She couldn’t judge him for attempting to make a coin with the only resource available to him. Her heart rushed before her brain and she said; “What are your skills?”

His eyebrows hitched at her: “I only strip Miss…”

He’d misunderstood her meaning and that made her blush and stammer; “No! No, I mean what was your trade before…”

His cheeks flush a dark grey-green as he blushed. He riffled in his pack and drew out a beautiful metal dragon. Belle leaned forward in wonder as he flipped a tiny switch on the side and the sculpture roared into life. Belle’s eyes widened as the little automaton fluidly flexed it’s wings and craned it’s neck before curling up in his palm and going still.

“My own design and construction.”

There was a gentle pride in his words that Belle admired.

“It is beautiful work,” She bit her lip for a moment, “I’m an inventor, I need a skilled assistant. I would like to hire you.”

His eyes widened and his throat bobbed as he swallowed; “Hire me? For the day?”

“Long term, I was thinking a three month trial to see if we work well together. I can pay you a decent wage, and provide board and lodging.”

His features froze, his face had become so still that Belle wondered if she had offended him.

“Six months, and I’d like a contract drawn up to make everything official.”

That surprised her a little, she wondered if he had had the promise of work before only to be taken advantage of. A contract was a sensible proposition for both of them.

“Of course I can have my lawyer draw up the documents.”

He nodded curtly, and a small twitch of his lips suggested the hint of a smile.

“In that case there is only one other thing I require.”

“What is that?”

“You name, dearie.”

“Oh of course,” She offered him her hand, “Miss Belle French.”

He lightly gripped her hand and gave it the smallest of shakes before releasing her.

“Rum Gold, a pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss French.”


	3. Chapter 3

Returning to her home from the Isle of Dogs with Gold proved to be problematic. The steam-tram conductor had flatly refused to allow him on board, and had even offered to call the Peelers when he thought Gold was stalking her. The look of disgust on his face when Belle pointed out that Gold was in her employ had made her want to give the annoying man a ding around the ear. Gold had offered to make his own way to Stepney, claiming he could easily walk, but the principal of the matter sparked Belle’s stubborn side. Gold was a human being; he did not deserve to be treated like a beast. In the end she had managed to find a Hackney that was willing to take them home. The driver was a giant stoic man who only named his very reasonable fare and drove them home in silence. He had given Gold a long look, but there had been no malice in his eyes so Belle had accepted that this was the best they could hope for under the circumstances.

Gold was silent on the journey; he huddled in the corner of the seat putting as much distance between them as was possible in the confines of the cab. Belle wasn’t sure how to draw him out into conversation, and wryly thought that it was going to be a very awkward six months if this was how they were going to be around each other.

Belle felt the lingering tension caused by the day’s events ease as they approached her home. Mr Hatter had more than earned his commission when she had left her father’s house. He had taken her directly to a respectable boarding house owned by Widow Lucas. The old, no nonsense lady had taken Belle under her wing and helped her become confident in her new freedom. The ability to purchase things for herself without having to justify the expenditure to her father would have overwhelmed her if Widow Lucas hadn’t been by her side offering practical advice and support. It had taken Mr Hatter only a week to find her a suitable house in Stepney, and while she had been sad to leave the boarding house and her new friends, she knew that this was the best thing for her to do. 

The modest two storey house was set within a generous garden, but the feature that Belle had instantly fallen in love with was the ground floor, the entire level had been converted into a workshop. It was perfect, but she felt a sense of trepidation as she led Gold inside. It occurred to her that other than Mr Hatter, who confessed he had little understanding of mechanical things so was in no place to judge, no man had set foot in her workshop. She decided that if Mr Gold made a single sneering comment like Gaston or her father would then she would terminate their arrangement on the spot.

Gold stepped inside and inhale through his nose deeply. A dreamy expression lit his face and he nodded; “You use Moby’s Three in One Oil. Best there is.”  
Belle grinned and nodded. With a gesture of his hand Gold asked for permission to move inside and explore.

“Please, take a look around.”

She stood back and watched as he slowly made his way around the room. At one point he reached out to touch one of her tools, but he pulled his hand back before his fingers made contact. Instead of picking up the jig she had designed and built, he clasped his hands behind his back and bent down so his hair fell in his face as he examined it. She bit her lip as he moved on, wondering what he had thought about it, but was too distracted by his progress to ask at the moment. He stopped in front of the large chalkboard where she kept her inspiration, his head tilted from side to side and he twisted on his heel to look at her, his finger gently tapping the edge of the daguerreotype of her mother. Belle held her breath; this was probably the point where he would say something mocking or cruel.

“This is Colette Monroe. I saw her give a talk on sustainable energy sources at the Royal Society when I was an apprentice, oh that must have been twenty-five years ago. Her theories were amazing.”

Belle felt tears well up in her eyes, when was the last time she had heard someone speak of Mother so kindly?

“She was my Mother.”

She wasn’t aware of the emotion in her until she spoke. Gold took a step towards her, his out stretched hand waving in the air as if somehow he could close the gap of half a room between them without further movement. He dropped it and his fingers fidgeted as he spoke; “Miss French, it was not my intention to cause you distress. I am sorry.”

“Oh no, Mr Gold, it is a pleasure to hear someone speak so well of my Mother and her ideas. My Father was always so … well he has his opinions.”

Clearly aware of the awkwardness the topic of family presented Gold cast his eyes around the workshop.

“You are following in her footsteps, exploring ways of harnessing natural power.”

“I am yes, my goal is hers, to find a way to fuel this age of industry and beyond with a power source that is perpetual and lasting.”

Gold hissed through his teeth; “It pains me to say it, but I believe I owe Hordor a pint,” He smiled at her raised eyebrow and explained, “Had he not thrown me into your path this morning we might never have met and I would have missed this wonderful opportunity.”

Belle’s face lit up into a bright smile and she bounded to one of the workbenches; “Well, in that case let me explain what progress I have made. Now this is my idea for a heat exchange…”


	4. Chapter 4

The door was knocked at promptly at ten o’clock the next morning. Belle wiped the oil from her hands and headed to answer it, but Gold got there before her. He had taken his employment as her assistant to mean that he was her servant, even trying to refuse the large, airy guest room as his lodging until Belle had pointed out that this was the only room fit for use since she had turned the others over to storage. 

She hoped that hashing out the details of their contract this morning would reassure him that he was not subservient to her. Gold answering the door did give her time to wrap her skirt around her hips. Belle had abandoned the ridged corseted bodices and floor sweeping skirts of the Upper Classes and embraced the practical clothing favoured by female inventors and Zep-crews. A bodiced jerkin and light blouse paired with supple leather britches were more practical for the workshop, but the plain woollen skirt that reached her ankles could be buckled around her waist in mere moments should she need to receive company. The sheer practicality of her new wardrobe often made her wonder how she had survived in whalebone corsets and off the shoulder dresses, none of which were tailored the practicality of pockets.

As she approached the front porch she heard the sound of conversation.

“…see you again old chap. It has been too long.”

“Jefferson, I had no idea you were Miss Belle’s lawyer.”

“I have that privilege. May I assume that you are the one insisting on the contract of employment today?”

“Aye, and you know why.”

“Of course I do, Rum, the question is does Miss French?”

Belle cleared her throat and stepped forward; “I do not fully understand the reason for the contract, but I am hopping you gentlemen can enlighten me. Shall we step inside?”

She turned sharply on her heel and walked up the stairs to the room she used as a parlour, glad that she had taken time to put on her skirt, the swoosh and flair of the fabric did lend itself to the dramatic gesture. She refused to look back, but the sounds of footsteps on the stairs behind her told her that the two men were following her. Once inside she settled herself on a chair and took a moment to compose herself before she heard the door click shut. Taking a deep breath she raised her head and treated the two men to a hard stare.

“Gentleman, I will not tolerate secrets in my home. It is clear that you have a previous association, and that this contract is of greater importance than I had suspected. Please explain yourselves.”

Mr Hatter turned are raised an eyebrow at Gold, who simply shrugged. The lawyer gave him a short bow and an exasperated sigh before he turned to Belle. He briefly closed his eyes and then snapped them open.

“Mr Gold and I have been acquainted for the past decade. We met when I was working for Miller and Hart, the legal firm that as you know serves the Greene family. I was not with them for long preferring the positon I was offered at Cheshire and Raupo, but Mr Gold and I remained friendly. When the Steelskin appeared…”

Gold snorted; “We all thought it was a bit of a joke at the start.”

Mr Hatter paused, not in the least bit put out by the interruption. He waited as Gold raked his hands through his hair and sighed before he looked at Belle directly for the first time since they had begun this discussion.

“How much do you know about Steelskin and how it came about, Miss French?”

“Only what I have read in the press.”

The look of bitter disgust on Gold’s face made Belle’s stomach clench. It took only a second to realize that his strong emotion was not directed at her; his eyes had taken on a distant aspect. Slowly he began to relate the events that had led him to this time and place.

_A year ago_

“Bae! I’m home!”

Baelfire pounded down the stairs and threw himself at Rum. He only just managed to catch his excited eleven year old safely, but that didn’t stop him staggering back dramatically, much to Bae’s giggling amusement.

“Woah! Steady on lad! You’re getting so big I won’t be able to catch you soon.”

“Nah, you’ll always catch me Papa.”

Bae cocked his head to one side and rubbed at a spot on his father’s neck.

“Papa? What’s this?”

Rum turned and glanced in the large wall mirror. The patch of skin Bae had pointed out was rough and as he moved his head it glittered. It didn’t hurt, so he just shrugged.

“Just a bit of metal dust from work. I’ll be right as ran after a good wash,” He bopped Bae on the nose, where a smudge of grim had escaped Mrs Potts’ eagle-eye, “I’m not the only one who needs to clean up.”

Bae wriggled out of his arms, “That’s what I was supposed to be doing before you came home! Mrs Potts said dinner will be ready soon.”

“You best hurry up or I’ll eat all of yours.”

“Not possible, Mrs Potts has made extra since I’m a growing lad.”

Bae raced up the stairs and Rum took a moment to examine the strange patch of skin. It resisted the rubbing of his fingers, and dabbing at it with his handkerchief did not remove it. Whatever it was it was going to take more than a spit and polish to get off, which he better attend to before Mrs Potts saw him, his housekeeper had very particular ideas about how one should present oneself for the dinner table.

 

A few days later at the factory Robin Hood ambled over to the hidden corner where Rum was smoking his pipe.

“Boss’s daughter left by the front ten minutes ago, mate.”

Rum blew out a cloud of pipe smoke with a sheepish grin; “Was I that obvious?”

Robin lit up on roll-up of his own, “Didn’t even notice you were gone until she asked for you.”

Rum shuddered, Miss Greene had an inexplicable fixation with him, and showing due deference to the brash woman was a test of both his manners and patience at the best of times. He’d mastered ducking out the moment her heard her arrival, and nobody snitched on him, because to be frank there wasn’t a soul in the factory who had much fondness for the lady. The two men smoked in companionable silence for a few moments. 

“See you got the glitter too, mate.”

Rum looked down at his hand where another odd patch of shimmering skin had appeared.

“Aye, can’t seem to shift it whatever it is.”

Robin had a similar patch across his cheek, which he rubbed as he spoke; “Most of us have got it to one degree or another. Tuck has some interesting ideas about where it’s come from.”

Rum rolled his eyes and groaned. Friar Tuck was a brilliant engineer, but he did have a strange obsession with the paranormal.

“Let me guess, some sort of mystic malady called forth by Alistair Crowley and his followers? Or maybe we’ve all been touched by spirits departed?”

Robin sniggered; “Something along those lines. It was all very believable last night in the pub; you know how well Tuck can spin a yarn.”

“That he can. Are you and your Merry Men any closer to repairing the ventilation system?”

With a name like Robin Hood it was obvious that his work crew would gain the title of Merry Men, oddly enough each man on the crew fitted into a role from the story, and had become so used to their nicknames that they responded to nothing else. For example Friar Tuck’s real name was William Keighley, but Rum couldn’t recall the last time anyone had called him that in the factory.

Robin shook his head; “No, and we’re not going to get any closer until shop-boss signs off on those parts. We’re keeping it running on a wing and prayer at the moment, but we can’t do that forever.”

Both of them knew it wasn’t Anton, the shop-boss’ fault that vital repairs were being delayed. Mr Greene himself had halted all ‘unnecessary expenditure’ until next quarter. What the man didn’t seem to grasp was that in a factory this size ventilation was always necessary. Rum knocked out his pipe and walked back inside with Robin.

“Maybe this glitter means there’s a leprechaun lurking around. We’ll all be sheading gold and we can stop worrying about work altogether.”

 

A week later it was hard to believe that they had ever laughed about their glittering skin. Despite the Merry Men’s best efforts the ventilation system had failed catastrophically during the afternoon shift change. Rum remembered the explosion, the cloud of choking smoke that caused panicked souls to shout fire, but there was no heat, just a prickling chill that permeated every inch of his body. He remembered bumping off people as they blindly evacuated. Amid the shouting and groaning that came from all sides, he clearly recalled hearing someone praying, begging with God to deliver them from this evil. And then the rush of warm air as he finally made it outside, and the sight of a passer-by on the street dropping in to a dead faint at the sight of them all, and that was the moment he realized that they had been horrifically changed.

The pain of that day took second place to the indignities that followed. Rum’s major concern was how Bae would react to his shiny, scaly skin, and snake-like eyes, but his amazing, loving son took it in his stride and hugged him reassuring him that the doctors would find a cure. They didn’t. To Rum’s mind the doctors were more concerned with prodding, poking and condescendingly reminding anyone who complained that they were very fortunate to have an employer willing to provide such good medical care. They had to grin and bear the examinations, and while Rum could understand the skin specialist, the lung doctor and the ophthalmologist, the phrenologist sparked his suspicions. The day after the quack with the callipers had measured them all the first article blaming the workers slovenly attitudes appeared in the press. The whole workforce was fired the very next day.

Rum and the others were outraged, but whatever Greene had paid the phrenologist had been worth it. Apparently it was an unfortunate fact that every single worker in the East End factory displayed all of the cranial characteristics that denoted sloth, dishonesty and violent rage. Robin threw the paper against the wall of Rum’s parlour in disgust, had the quack witnessed that he would have nodded sagely at proof of his theory.

“They are villainizing us, Gold! Why aren’t you angrier about this?”

Rum sighed, “Because Mrs Potts will be back from the park with our sons in a moment and I’m more worried about having to tell her that I can no longer employ her.”  
The subject of money calmed Robin a little and Rum braced himself for the now familiar offer; “You and Bae are more than welcome to come up North with the Merry Men. Marian’s family have already offered us jobs on the Zeppelins.”  
The very idea of flying unnerved Rum, but since his wife had left him and Bae for that swaggering fool of a Zep-captain his dislike of airships had increased tenfold.  
“You know my feelings about those flying death-traps, Hood.”  
“We’ll be a legitimate crew, not bloody sky-pirates.”  
Rum growled and Robin held up his hands in apology, “I’m sorry, but if you need a place to go, you know where to find us,” He pulled a folded handbill from his pocket and offered it to Rum, “And keep an eye out for these.”  
His eyebrow twitched as he read the offered paper; “Ah, the mysterious Jinx.”  
“Don’t knock it, they are the only one on our side, and at time like these we need all the allies we can get.”  
“Even if they are a shadowy journalist who only communicates through telegram, and flyposting?”  
“Aye that’s right. Speaking of allies in times of need, do you want me to stay while you tell Mrs Potts the bad news.”  
“Yes please.”

A few weeks later Rum was glad that he had followed Hood’s advice and kept an eye out for the Jinx handbills, if he hadn’t he wouldn’t have had any warning that Moral Code 815 had come into effect. Miss Stella Goodbody, more commonly known as Miss Blue because of the colour of her apparel, had taken up the cause of the children of the Steelskined. She had loudly decried the suitability of Steeskined as parents and thanks to the fortune behind her and her popularity among the upper classes as a champion of moral standing her movement had gained the momentum of a runaway steam train. In a few short weeks Parliament had proposed a bill drafted by Miss Blue, which had received instant approval of both the Commons and the Lords. Moral Code 815 stripped Steelskins of the right to raise their own children; they were to be taken in to the care of the Blue Star Foundation to be raised in a wholesome environment away from the corrupting influence of their parents. The Jinx handbill sent Rum into a panic. They had to run, Bae and him had to get out of London and away. He formed a hasty plan to get them North in the hopes that Robin’s offer was still good. It took all of his patience to wait until an hour before the last train to Nottingham was due to leave King’s Cross before he woke Bae.

“Bae. Wake up son.”

“Papa? It’s dark. What’s happening?”

“We’re going on a trip, son. To see Roland.”

Bae gave him a sleepy grin, he had missed his friend since Robin had left for the North.

“That’s good, but why are we going so late?”

“Because that’s the best time to catch the train. It’ll be an adventure.”

Rum hurried through back alleys and side streets, hushing and chivvying Bae when he started to ask questions or drag his feet. The lights of King’s Cross Station were in sight and Rum rushed forward, and stepped directly into the arms of the Peelers.

“Look boys, a runaway Croc. Trying to get away with his poor little brat. Never mind laddie, Miss Blue will see you right.”

Rum tried to hold on to Bae’s hand, tried to struggle against men twice his size to fight his way back to his crying son, but a blow to the back of his head sent the world around him dark.

 

Despite his aching head he bounded to his feet when the door of his cell opened.

“Jefferson where is … oh Miss Greene. What are you doing here?”

She ignored him in favour of dropping a coin into the hand of the guard who had brought a chair inside for her. Rum eyed her suspiciously as she primped and preened while she settled herself.

“Well, alone at last. You are quite the slippery fellow, aren’t Rum. Always vanishing off to who knows where when I took the trouble to visit you at the factory. When I heard that you had been arrested, well the opportunity was too good to miss.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand why you are here.”

“Why to help you of course.”

Hope flared in Rum’s chest; “You can have me released?”

She threw her head back and gave a shrill laugh; “Don’t be ridiculous! You broke the law. You are going to jail, but in this civilized nation of ours, money can ease the way even behind the walls of Newgate.”

There was a predatory gleam in her eye that made Rum’s pulse jump as his instinct to flee attempted to assert itself. There was nowhere to run, and his pride refused to let him cower away from her. Her eyes narrowed slightly when he didn’t ask her to elaborate.

“My dear Father wouldn’t let me observe any of medical examinations, so I didn’t get to see one of you Steelskins in full, but you can give me what I want.”

He blinked several times; she couldn’t possibly be suggesting what it sounded like. 

“You want me to expose myself to you?”

A huge smile spread across her face; “Yes! That’s exactly what I want,” She pulled a few folded banknotes from her purse; “I’ll pay you enough to make your stay in prison quite comfortable.”

He laughed at her; “You’re insane!”

The chair scrapped across the flagstones as she rose sharply to her feet and advanced on him. Pride be damned, the cold fury in her eyes made him retreat until his back hit the wall.

“Listen to me, doll. With one shout I can have three very large guards in here, who will rip your clothes from you. If I have to do that, you will not get a penny from me, and you’ll shiver in rags in Newgate. Now, be a good doll, strip for me and you can have the money.”

She tossed the notes onto the hard bench, and calmly resumed her seat. Rum looked from the money to her and back again. She tutted impatiently at his hesitation; “The guards delight in beating ordinary criminals, imagine how enthusiastic they would be to beat a disobedient Croc.”

Bile rose in his stomach as he shrugged off his overcoat. Perhaps she would be satisfied with just his bare chest. The sight of his scaled skin disgusted him; surely she had enough female sensibilities to react the same way? He paused when his torso was bare, but she waved an imperious hand at him.

“Continue, doll.”

He striped his boots and trousers quickly wanting this humiliation to be over as soon as possible. He stood before her his last shred of modesty gone. Looking wasn’t enough for her. He bit the inside of his lip until it bled and kept his gaze focused on the money as her hands roamed over him. After an eternity she stepped away and headed toward the door to call the guard. For an instant he thought he was to receive the beating she’d promised even though he had complied, but she was simply telling the guard she was done. He scrambled for his clothes, which made her laugh; “Oh don’t be such a prude, doll, you haven’t got anything he hasn’t seen before.”  
She left with a sneer and the door was locked once more. Rum staggered to the slop bucket and vomited. 

 

The next visitor to the dank cell was Jefferson Hatter, who came with a long face and gloomy news.

“I’m sorry Rum. The Blue Star Foundation has taken Bae.”

Rum was numb; guilt, failure and shame had hollowed him out.

“How long are they locking me away for?”

If the lawyer was surprised he hadn’t asked after his son, he didn’t show it. 

“Only three months.”

Rum nodded mutely; “Oh, well three months isn’t so bad then. I can get Bae back after that. We’ll be together again in time for Christmas.”

Jefferson shook his head; “I’m afraid it won’t be that simple, Rum.”

 

_Now_

Belle was aghast at the horrors Gold had described. Mr Hatter picked up the tale, but his initial words were lost to Belle as she studied Gold. He was standing stiffly as he had been while he spoke, but there was an air of a defeated slump about him, as if his soul had sagged under the pressure of telling his tale. He glanced up and caught Belle’s eye; she quickly turned her attention to Mr Hatter who was reading from a document.

“…stipulations laid down in Moral Code 815 are very clear. A Steelskin sufferer must have six months continuous employment with a reputable person, or firm in order to have the custody of their child or children returned to them. Until such time as the Steelskin is able to prove that they are a productive and upstanding member of…” Mr Hatter rolled his eyes, “To be honest this section of the law is a lot of moralistic nonsense which I’ll not bore you with Miss French. What it boils down to is that for Rum, Mr Gold, to get his son back he needs to work for six months. Are you willing to employ him for that length of time?”

Belle turned to Gold; his altered eyes were filled with cautious hope.

“How long has it been since you saw your son?”

She was uncertain as to why that was the only question she could think to ask; the fearful part of her mind suggest she should at least ask if he had engaged in any other criminal activity, he had spent three months in Newgate after all, but her heart suggested that asking about his son would give her the true measure of the man. Gold didn’t hesitate, or even blink before he answered; “Two hundred and seventy-two days. One Christmas and one birthday missed.”

That he had counted the days, not the weeks or months since he had last been with his child decided the matter for her.

“Mr Hatter? Please draw up a contract for six month employment, and be certain that it will satisfy every requirement of that ridiculous moral code.”

Her lawyer cracked a rare wide smile and Gold gasped, “Thank you miss.”

She smiled at him, “There is one stipulation,” Gold gulped nervously but nodded, “You must tell me everything you can remember about my Mother’s talk at the Royal Society.”

“Oh, with pleasure miss.”


	5. Chapter 5

Once Mr Hatter had taken his leave to arrange the contract Gold relaxed somewhat, but Belle still had the sense that he was unsure as to his position. It struck her that with all he had been through, he was bound to be wary and skittish. Considering the despicable way that Miss Greene had abused him, she could understand that he would be cautious around a woman with power over him. She went about gaining his trust and putting him at ease by focusing on the common ground between them; their passion for tinkering and creating. Belle, like every inventor she imagined, had a few creations that she was most pleased with. The one she chose to show Gold first was her external muscle rig. Gold watched with interested as she slipped her arms into the harness.  
“I discovered very quickly that I don’t have the upper body strength for heavy lifting, or turning stubborn wrenches, so I developed an external boost to my own strength. The concept is based upon the braces my friend Ruby uses. She is a Zep-captain and was injured during an incident on board her ship. The rig that inspired this one gives her the use of her arm and leg.”  
Gold’s brow was drawn in a slight frown as she explained, but his face lit up with wonder once the rig was buckled in place and she lifted one of the workbenches with ease.  
“That is amazing. May I?”  
Belle nodded her permission for him to come closer and examine the rig. He started at her fingers, which were tipped in metal over a stout leather gloves. She smiled as he twisted his head in an attempt to get a look at her palms; it was endearing how careful he was not to touch her. In a gentle hissing of hydraulics, she turned her hands over to afford him a better view.

“Ah, your fingertips are fully protected.”

“Yes, the sacrifice of fine tactile skills is worth it, since I only use this rig for heavy work.”

He moved up her arm, examining the jointed levers and padded overlapping rings of metal that made up the sleeve of the rig.

“You say your friend the Zep-captain uses something like this to walk?”

There was something in his tone as he spoke of Ruby that Belle wasn’t sure she liked. He had mentioned his dislike of Zeps as he related the basics of his history, but Belle wanted to better understand his opinion. 

“Gold? Are you one of those men who believe that woman shouldn’t be Zep-captains?”

“No, I’m one of those men who aren’t keen on the whole concept of humans flying,” he gave her an awkward shrug, “I know how safe it is supposed to be, well obviously not for your friend in that instance; but the whole idea of not having my feet on the ground unsettles me. I suppose at some point I will have to get used to the idea, Zeps are here to stay.”

“Perhaps your friend Robin could take you on a short flight.”

It struck her as a sensible suggestion, if Gold was with a friend who knew the working of a Zep then surely he would find the flight less stressful. His face took on that mask-like appearance once again. In a flat level tone he said; “Robin and I have spoken only once since I was released from Newgate. The conversation did not go well. He got to keep his son, and I was very jealous of that.”

Not wanting to bring him any more pain by continuing to discuss his son, she steered the topic of conversation back to the rig. She turned her back to him so he had a clear view of the shoulder joints where the arms connected to the power source.

“What do you think of the power supply?”

She heard him muttering to himself as he identified the various components.

“A spiral flat spring and a generator? This whole rig is powered by clockwork and electricity?”

Belle turned to face him with a smile; “Yes. Do you want to try it out?”


	6. Chapter 6

A few days later Belle was lured from the workshop by an enticing smell. Her nose led her to the kitchen. It was a smallish room and the only thing on the ground floor that wasn’t workshop. Belle’s own culinary skills ran to nothing more than sandwiches, the life of a lady of leisure that she had been trained for by her father had not given her much of an education in the art of cooking. If she wanted a hot meal these days she dined out, there were plenty of bistros and cafes locally where she could either eat quickly, or take her time and savour a perfectly prepared meal; the staff in many places had become used to seeing her dine alone with only a book for company.  
She found Gold with his sleeves rolled up, wearing an apron that she had never seen before. He was stirring a pot of something that smelled amazing. Belle frowned; it was possible he had found the apron in one of the cupboards, but he couldn’t have found the necessary ingredients for whatever he was cooking. She knew the state of her pantry, there had been nothing edible other than bread and some cheese, and to be honest the cheese was possibly closer to a biology experiment than foodstuff.

“Where did all this come from?”

Gold had clearly not heard her enter the kitchen; her sudden question made him jump and hiss as his bare hand connected with the side of the hot pan. Belle hurried around the table, babbling apologies and caught his wrist pulling him in her wake to the sink. As the cold water ran over the burn he was tense, which Belle took to be because of the discomfort his injury had caused him, but his breath puffing across her ear made her aware of the position she had gotten the two of them into. Gold’s arm was pinned between her own and her body, his front was pressed to her back though he was doing his best to keep some distance between their bodies. 

“I can manage, thank you.”

She slipped out from between him and the sink, and moved back to the table to give him some space. He cleared his throat and answered her question as he patted his hand dry on a clean towel.

“I arranged for deliveries from the grocer and butcher. You had nothing in the pantry, but bread and tea.”

He glanced at her and tentatively added; “You did say I could order necessary items on your household accounts. I instructed the delivery boy to leave everything at the back door. I didn’t want to scare him.”

She had given him the permission a few days ago, but at the time she’d thought he would only be ordering items for the workshop. Her eyes roamed briefly over his too thin frame and she kicked herself for not having given more thought to stocking the pantry.

“Yes, that’s fine. I’m not much of a cook.”

He shot her a shy smile; “Aye, so I’d noticed, but you can’t hope to change the world on tea and toast alone.”

He waved her to the table and began ladling the thick soup into a bowl which he placed before her with a slice of fresh bread. The aroma had been enticing, but now she saw the green hue her appetite waned. Gold was anxiously waiting for her to taste his cooking, and when she continue to hesitate he gently said; “I’m not infectious.”  
Belle felt her face flush with embarrassment; “Oh no! I never suspected you were. It’s just I’m not fond of peas.”

Gold looked at the bowl of ham and pea soup.

“Ah, I am sorry. I should have enquired about your preferences. How do you feel about beef and ale pie?”

Her mouth started to water; “I adore it.”

He grinned and turned to the oven, deliberately taking a moment to wrap his hand in a thick towel before lifting a perfectly golden brown pie from the oven. Belle’s stomach rumbled as he cut her a generous slice and served her with a flourish. When he didn’t move to cut a portion for himself she asked; “Are you not eating with me?”  
He blinked in surprise and picked up her untouched bowl of soup.

“I’ll take this rather than waste it.”

She agreed, but wondered if he was just being thrifty, or if there was another reason he wasn’t eating the rich meat pie. Once he was seated she took her first bite and moaned in appreciation.

“Oh this is heavenly. Where did you learn to cook?”

He finished his small mouthful of soup before he answered. Belle was certain now that he was eating slowly in order for his stomach not to reject the food. How long had it been since he had had a proper meal? She promised herself that from now on she would make sure they took proper breaks to eat. She’d probably have to set some sort of alarm clock for them, since she had the habit of getting caught up in her work. She could afford to miss a few meals, but Gold needed to build up his strength.

“My aunts taught me the basics and then Mrs Potts, my housekeeper was kind enough to teach me further. I enjoy cooking.”

She licked some gravy from her lips; “I’m glad. From now on the kitchen is yours. I can brew a perfect pot of tea, but we’d have to invent some sort of automatic fire dousing engine if I were to take to the stove on a regular basis.”

Gold snorted, “I could teach you to cook. It’s simple enough.

Belle shook her head, “You underestimate my ability to cremate the most simple of things. We’ll design and build the fire douser, and then you can try to teach me.”

They spent the rest of their meal in a spirited discussion about the features and mechanical challenges of the hypothetical device. Gold listened intently to her ideas and suggestions, and offered some of his own. He didn’t get sulky, or angry when she dismissed one of his ideas as being impractical, in fact he considered her words and agreed with her. She had never met a man who treated her as an intellectual equal, or was willing to admit that he was not all knowing on every subject. It was invigorating. By the time they had finished their meal they had the basic design for a fire dousing device sketched out, and Belle felt confident that working with Gold would be enjoyable.


	7. Chapter 7

During the second month of being Gold’s employer Belle found they had developed a harmonious household rhythm. Gold was habitually an early riser and would start his day an hour or so before Belle, which meant that the scent of breakfast would rouse her and make her hurry to dress. Once in the kitchen Belle would brew the tea and they would break their fast together while discussing their plans for the day.

Her work was progressing much faster thanks to Gold’s help, they were still a way off from being able to test a full size version of her solar capture device, but Belle was hopeful that by this time next year she would have a prototype to present to the Royal Society.

Now that Gold was eating regularly his clothes no longer hung loosely from his frame, and Belle had decided that she would need to arrange a new wardrobe for him soon. He still hid from the delivery boys and rarely ventured from the house during daylight hours for fear of running into trouble or drawing gawping crowds. Perhaps she could ask a tailor to come to the house, or purchase ready-made clothing? She would have to seek Widow Lucas’ advice; she would best know how to go about dressing a man.  
Gold still could not be persuaded to call her by her given name, but Belle wasn’t deterred. A friendship was blooming between them, and once she had discovered that he was a skilled Canasta player, many of their evenings were spent in good natured competition playing for matchsticks before they retired for the night.

She had become so used to their morning routine that when the odour of smoke pulled her from her slumber she rushed from her bedroom without pausing to dress, or even pick up a robe. To her momentary relief she discovered that the smoke was not emanating from the workshop, panic gripped her again when she saw the kitchen was the source. Heedless of the potential danger Belle rushed into the kitchen calling Gold’s name.

“Ach! Ya wee bugger!”

A sharp hiss of steam and his heavily accented cursing helped Belle located Gold in the smog. He was waving a towel back and forth in an attempt to clear the air.

“Gold! Are you hurt?”

“No Miss! Sorry about this I got distracted while cooking kedgeree.”

The smoke had thinned enough now for them to have a clear view of each other. He gave a strangled cough and twisted on his heel to face the wall.

“I’m, erm, I’m fine Miss. Er, why don’t you go and get ready for the day and I’ll see what I can save of breakfast.”

She had no idea what to make of his strange behaviour until she glanced down at herself and realised just how revealing this particular nightgown was. She clutched the nearly scandalously low neckline up to her chin and backed out of the room.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Once in the privacy of her bedroom Belle giggled to herself. Considering the situation her hurried entrance to the kitchen was perfectly acceptable; no sensible person would risk their lives or others by taking time to dress when they were woken by smoke. She bit her lip at the memory of Gold’s flustered face. The poor man, what a start to the morning. She double checked her clothing in the mirror before she returned to the kitchen; there was no need to cause either of them any more blushes.

Gold gave her a shy smile and apologised for the abrupt start to the morning. Belle took her seat at the table and asked; “What had you so distracted that you were bested by kedgeree?”

He answered with a heavy sigh: “I received Bae’s monthly letter this morning.”

Belle frowned slightly. Last month he had been delighted to receive correspondence from his son. The Blue Star Charity only allowed the children in their care to exchange one letter per month with their parents, another moral rule which seemed nothing but cruel to Belle's mind. If there was anything wrong with Bae then she would have Mr Hatter file an appeal for an immediate visit, or storm up to Norfolk herself. She gave herself a mental shake, she was getting ahead of herself again, thinking with her heart instead of her brain. The Blue Star Charity already held the Steelskin suffers over a legal barrel; her charging in blindly could do more harm than good.

“Is Bae well?”

“I believe so. I told him of my employment in my last letter, but he made no mention of it this month. I was hoping he would be pleased that it would not be long before we can be a family again.”

Gold looked so downcast that Belle reached across and cover his hand with her own.

“I am certain he is very excited. I imagine that he just got caught up in sharing his own news and ran out of time before he could share his joy at yours.”

His eyes were fixed on their hands as he quietly said; “Or maybe he’s not wanting to get his hopes up in case I fail him again.”

Belle squeezed his hand; “You and Bae will be a family again before Christmas, Gold.”

His wide dark eyes searched her face; she hoped her features were conveying confidence and reassurance, not the ire that she felt at the way the world had conspired against him and every other Steelskin. After a long moment he gave a swift nod and gently removed his hand from hers.

“You are right. He was full of news about his schooling. He’s getting very good scores in mathematics these days.”

They shared a smile and tucked into breakfast, which all things considered was only slightly over-smoked for kedgeree.


	8. Chapter 8

Belle was feeling ridiculous and frustrated. It had made perfect sense this morning for Gold to make the trip to the Isle of Dogs. He’d been getting cranky for days; too long spent inside would have an adverse effect on anyone’s mood especially in this August heat. It didn’t help that his options for a jaunt out were severally limited by public reaction to his condition. The disaster at the Oz Guild factory had been largely forgotten by the newspapers, but people still reacted badly to anyone as starkly different as a Steelskin. Only last week the grocers’ boy had caught sight of Gold through the kitchen door which he had left ajar in hope of catching a breeze. The startled boy raced back to the shop babbling tales of the glittery fairy living at Miss Belle’s house. It had taken quite a while to reassure the worried grocer that there was nothing amiss and even longer to soothe Gold’s ruffled feathers. Apparently being called a Croc was one thing, but being accused of being one of the Fae Folk was a step too far. Thankfully the Hackney driver who had brought them back from the Isle of Dogs originally had no qualms about Belle hiring him for the day to drive Gold about, so her assistant had been able to slip out and run errands without too much fuss. She hoped the change of scenery would improve his mood, of course if it didn’t he would probably laugh himself silly when he came home and saw the predicament that she had gotten herself into; stuck with one arm extended above her head and the other stretched in front of her like the ballerina from a music box all because her Mech-arm rig had chosen now to fail her.

In hindsight the sensible course of action would have been to wait until Gold returned before she started a major rearranging of the workshop, but she had energy to burn after the heavy atmosphere that had pervaded the house for the past week. In her need to do something physical she had ignored the stiffness she’d felt in the Mech-arms when she’d pulled them on, and now she was stuck. On the positive side at least Gold would be coming home soon, if this had happened before she had hired him she would have been in real trouble. On the negative side her nose itched and her arms had gone numb and she had no idea how much longer it would be before Gold returned. Perhaps the rig needed a quick release catch, one that didn’t need hands to engage it obviously. Belle growled in annoyance because she couldn’t think of a way such a useful device could be put into practise.

“Blast!”

Oh now that was an idea; Gold would mutter expletives when he hit his thumb with a hammer, or stubbed his toe; it always appeared to make him feel better, although he would blush a charming shade of grey-green if she was in earshot. She’d always found her father’s use of cussing to be unnerving since it was normally a prelude to him chastising her, but when Gold swore there was a charm to it, and his stuttered apologies reassured her that the ire behind his outburst was not directed at her.   
She bit her lip and considered the colourful words she had heard Gold employ. It felt deliciously naughty to even be reciting them in the privacy of her own mind, ladies of quality did not cuss, then again ladies of quality didn’t design Mech-arms and then get stuck in their contraptions.

“Damnation! Bugger! Fucking hellfire!”

“Belle!”

She hissed through her teeth at the startled sound of Gold’s voice, of course he would arrive home at the exact moment she was experimenting with vulgarities.

“Hello Gold, erm help?”

His smiling scaled face appeared in her line of sight. She was glad that he was feeling happy again, but if she had been able to move she probably would have given him a ding around the ear. His smile faltered as he looked at her.

“You are in pain. How long have you been stuck?”

“What time is it?”

“Just after noon.”

“Ah well about two hours then.”

He clucked his tongue, “Okay, I’m going to get my tools, talk me through what happened.”

He disappeared from her view, but she could hear him moving around the workshop. Now the prospect of release was close at hand Belle felt the panic that she had kept a bay begin to rise. She babbled out what what happened in such a rush of words that Gold didn’t stand a change of understanding her. He ducked in front of her and carefully cupped her face in his hands.

“Hey, look at me. I’m right here. It sounds like the flat spring has worked loose and jammed. I just need you to hold on for a few minutes more, okay?”

She gave him a shaky nod and tried to calm her breathing as he set to work. Gold kept up a running commentary as he worked to free her; his voice was soothing and sooner than she was expecting the rig snapped free and she slipped from it into his arms, sobbing with relief.

“Hush, I’ve got you.”

Her limbs were leaden and useless, she could do nothing to help as he lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs to the parlour. He carefully placed her on the couch and supported her when it was clear that she couldn’t sit up unaided.

“I need to rub your arms to get the blood flowing again, is that alright?”

She nodded mutely, not trusting herself to speak in case she started crying in earnest. His touch was brisk and firm, and Belle groaned as the feeling began to return to her over taxed limbs. She drifted into a pleasant haze, a dopey smile spread across her face.

“You called me Belle.”

“Aye I did. It was the surprise at hearing you cussing a blue streak.”

“I like it.”

He chuckled, “Swearing can be very therapeutic.”

“Not that, well I liked that too, but I like you calling me Belle instead of Miss.”

So softly she almost missed it he said; “I like calling you Belle.”

He stood up swiftly; “I’m going to get you something to drink, can you stay awake for me?”

She was comfortable on the couch, and a nap sounded like heaven, but she saw the sense in getting a drink first.

“I’ll try, Rum.”


	9. Chapter 9

In the days following her Mech-arm incident Belle was stiff and aching. Gold had put his foot down and suspended all tinkering in the workshop until she was fully recovered. She’d resisted, but very half-heartedly, she didn’t like being idle, but her muscles were giving her very little choice in the matter at the moment. Gold had been a darling, fetching and carrying for her, and doing his best to keep her entertained during her convalescence. He’d even donned a thick mourning veil to hide his scales so he could make a trip out to the pharmacy to purchase a soothing balm for her. Belle could apply it herself well enough, but she found herself wondering what it wold feel like to have Gold rub her aching muscles for her as he had in the immediate aftermath. The thought of his hands, slick with the balm on her skin gave her a deliciously shivery sensation that was strange enough to prevent her from asking him to assist her in such a way.

She wouldn’t ask that of him, for all that the idea was tempting. They had reached a level of friendship where they were comfortable using each other’s given names, but Belle didn’t want to upset the balance by asking for more than she thought Rum was willing to give. The horrible idea that their contract might make him feel obligated to oblige her whim turned her stomach. She refused to put him in that position.

Belle knew she had not been the best of patients during her recovery, but Gold had taken her short temper in his stride with good grace. At one point her frustrations with her physical limitations had caused her to accuse him of treating her like a child. The look of sorrow that had clouded his eyes at her careless reminder of his son had caused her an instant pang of guilt. He’d shrugged the sadness away and with a wry smile said; “When you and Bae meet you can trade tales of what a terrible nursemaid I am, but until then you need to take more time to rest.”

She’d been so relieved that he had not withdrawn into himself that she’d made a show of pouting and huffing like a small, spoilt child as she took to the couch once more. He’d chuckled at her antics and brought her a book to distract her. The thought of meeting Baelfire Gold in a few short months was unnerving her for reasons she couldn’t put her finger on.

“Do you think your son will like me?”

He’d tilted his head to one side and smiled; “Of course he will, how could he not?”

Belle wanted to do something nice for Rum to thank him for his care, but she was at a loss of what would make a suitable gift. Last month Widow Lucas has helped her purchase some new clothing for him. The practical style was much the same as the outfit he’d worn when they first met, but the new supple leather over his better fed frame was a great improvement on the old patched and scuffed clothes. She’d considered having him a set of custom tools made, but Rum did not form an attachment to tools in the same way she did. The first time she had watched him melt a spanner down in order to re-cast it she’d been shocked. Tools became a part of her through use, and what Rum had done was akin to chopping off a finger in her mind. They had quite the debate about it which was only put to rest when Rum swore he would never treat any of her tools in that way. They had agreed to differ on the subject, but Belle still had to leave the workshop when he was remodelling one of his tools.

With gifts of clothes or tools out of the equation as suitable gifts Belle was out of ideas until she received a telegram from Ruby Lucas.

During her stay at Widow Lucas’ boarding house Belle had met and become friends with her granddaughter Ruby. The feisty lady was a Zep-captain who a few years prior had been involved in an engine room accident; a piston housing had exploded and the shrapnel had clawed open the muscles of her right arm and leg, the scaring was horrific and neither limb had its former strength once it was healed. In any other profession Ruby would have been given a letter of thanks for her service and retired on half-pension, but the Zep-crews held to a different code, and never grounded one of their own when something could be done to keep them flying. Ruby’s crew had designed and built the braces for her crippled leg and arm that had inspired Belle to build her Mech-arms. While Belle’s derivation of the devices aided her occasionally, when they were working properly, Ruby’s braces kept her flying, which was as essential to her as breathing was to anyone else. 

The pistons that had caused Ruby’s injury were colloquially known as the Wolf’s Maw causing her crew to joke that she had survived a wolf attack and taken on some of the animals attributes. According to her crew that was how their captain could sniff out the best winds and the worst storms. Belle learned that a Zep-crew took pride in this sort of legend weaving about their captains, a captain who had survived and saved their crew and ship was a hero to all and Ruby was one of the greatest.  
The telegram Belle had received from her friend informed her that the Wolf’s Bane, Ruby’s Zep, was doing a short haul to Bognar and inviting Belle for a day at the seaside. Belle had jumped at the chance to get out of the sticky London heat and telegrammed Ruby asking if it was alright to bring a friend. The reply had been a simple: “Yes if its your shiny friend.” Belle rolled her eyes at that, Widow Lucas has obviously been keeping Ruby informed of the developments in Belle’s life.

He gave her a wide-eyed stare as she explained her planned trip to the seaside. In her excitement Belle had forgotten Rum’s misgivings about Zeppelins and flying. She began to babble, back-tracking so he didn’t feel forced into doing something he feared.

“We’d be on the bridge with Ruby, so no one would stare at you. And she’s wanted to show off the engines to me for ages so we’d have a full tour of all the really interesting bits. That would make it easier for you wouldn’t it seeing how everything works? Oh or would that make things worse? It was just an idea to get us out of London; we don’t have to go if you’d rather not. I just wanted to do something special for you…”

She stammered to a halt as he smiled at her.

“Do you know I think it is time for me to try this flying malarkey? You friend’s Zep is the best first flight I could ever ask for, and how can I turn up the chance to see all the interesting bits?”

Belle was so happy she almost hugged him, but controlled herself enough to only grab his hands in hers and bounce on her toes.

“Oh this is going to be wonderful Rum!”

He laughed with her and gripped her hands so he could spin them around in a circle.


	10. Chapter 10

Once again their stoic and reliable Hackney driver had been happy for the fare. Belle only knew the man by his licence number, 412215, which was all she needed to hire his cab, but she would really have to discover his name one of these days. Today she was swinging between excitement about seeing her friend and concern over Rum’s increasing pallor. Rum maintained his positive attitude until they reached the Zep landing field in Hyde Park where the Wolf’s Bane was moored. The closer they came to the Zep, the paler he became, the glitter in his skin standing out starkly against the pale grey of his scales. When he took her arm to hand her down from the cab Belle could feel that he was trembling.

“It’s much bigger than I was expecting.”

“Yes, she’s an ugly beast on the ground, but a beauty in the clouds. Hello Belle!”

Ruby had been waiting for them and now rushed forward to embrace Belle in greeting. Her braces hissed and creaked to support her exuberant movements. Belle took a step back and gestured to Rum.

“Ruby may I introduce my assistant, Mr Rum Gold. Rum this is Captain Ruby Lucas of the Wolf’s Bane.”

Rum bowed in greeting to Ruby as convention dictated, but Ruby was not one for following such rigid social norms, she took a lurching step toward Rum and wrapped him in an one armed hug; her unbraced arm Belle was pleased to notice, Ruby sometimes forgot the strength her braces gave her.

“Granny tells me you’re looking after my girl Belle. Thank you for that Gold, but you’re probably on a loser trying to teach her to cook.”

Belle was thrilled to see Rum chuckle; “Oh I don’t know. She successfully made toast only the other day.”

Ruby’s eyebrows hiked up, “And it was edible?”

“A little black around the edges,” Rum glanced at Belle with a reassuring smile, “but it was delicious.”

Belle drew herself up with mock haughtiness, “See Ruby. I told you I would one day master the kitchen.”

The ladies kept their composure for all of two seconds before dissolving into giggles. Ruby took a breath and waved a hand toward her Zep.

“Come on you two, I need to get my crew back in the clouds before they get landsick.”

Rum moved to cover his face with the veil that he had wrapped around his neck like a scarf. Belle saw Ruby’s eyes narrow before her friend said; “There’s no need for that in front of my crew, unless it’ll make you feel more comfortable.”

Rum’s hand faltered and he lowered the veil; “As long as you think my scales won’t upset any of your crew?”

Ruby shook her head, a smile playing across her face, “Look at me,” She flexed her braced arm and leg making the stream powered joints hiss, “Up in the clouds this is normal. If any of my crew look at you funny it just because their eyes were built that way.”

Belle hadn’t understood Ruby’s comment until they reached the Zep and she saw the crew of the Wolf’s Bane for the first time. Mechanical braces and replacements for damaged or missing body parts was a common feature, including some telescopic eyes. Beside her Belle hear Rum whisper, “Now I get it,” as five telescope eyes trained on him and gave him what could be counted as a funny look. 

One of those telescopic eyes belonged to a lady Ruby introduced as Chief Engineer Fu. At her formal title the lady rolled her ordinary eye and said; “Call me Mulan,” she nodded at Belle, “Nice to put a face to the name, Miss. Granny Lucas’ letters have been full of you for months now.”

Before Belle could register her surprise that Ruby had shared the contents of her Grandmother’s letters with her Chief Engineer, Mulan turned her attention to Rum.

“The Trent Company is flying a Zep crewed by Crocs, fine engineers every one of them.”

Ruby snorted; “Thieves is what they are, they tried to steal Mulan away from me and the Wolf’s Bane.”

Mulan laughed, “They are very poor thieves then aren’t they, because I am still here. There is nothing for me on the Sherwood, my home and my heart is on the Wolf’s Bane.”

The shy smile that passed between Ruby and Mulan made Belle think that the engineer wasn’t just describing her love of flying when she mentioned her heart. It looked to her that Ruby had found love above to the clouds, and that made her smile for her friend.

“Can we get off the ground now Captain?”

At Mulan’s question Belle felt Rum tense beside her. She took his hand and from the corner of her eye caught the knowing look on Ruby’s face.

“You can do this Rum.”

“Ah a nervous flyer. You been on any Zep before?”

Rum gave Ruby a tight nod, “One. Briefly, when it was moored.”

They had begun walking up the gangplank, so they were near the rest of the crew when Ruby asked; “Which Zep?”

“The Jolly Roger.”

The reaction of Ruby’s crew was instant; they crossed themselves, spat and clasped talismans. In a hiss of steam Ruby turned on Rum.

“You don’t say the name of that Zep! Do you want to call sky-pirates down on us? You’ll get no closer to my Zep if you’re friends with that bastard Jones!”

Rum let go of Belle’s hand and stepped up to stand toe to toe with Ruby.

“I am no friend of Killian Jones! My wife left me for that man, she abandoned our son for a life pillaging in the clouds. I only went near that damned ship to try and get her to come home to my boy.”

For a long drawn out moment Ruby and Rum stared at each other.

So softly that Belle almost missed it Rum said; “I hate that man.”

A wide smile spread across Ruby’s face and she clapped him on the shoulder, almost sending him staggering.

“In that case welcome aboard the Wolf’s Bane. Let’s show you what a real Zep can do.”

Belle blew out a shaky breath as Ruby’s crew relaxed and went about their work, apparently content with their captain’s acceptance of Rum. She watched as he gave himself a small shake and turned to her; “Shall we?”


	11. Chapter 11

Rum had shared her interest as Ruby led them on a brief tour of the bridge, but once they were ready to take off he became nervous again. Belle sat closer to him that was probably decent, but she wanted to offer him as much comfort and support as possible. He threaded their fingers together loosely, while his free hand held the chair arm in a white-knuckled grip.

“And we’re up. Cruising speed.”

Rum blinked and gazed out of the windows; “But that was so smooth. I was expecting it to be bumpier.”

Ruby gave a proud grin; “It would have been if you’d been on the passenger deck, but the bridge and engine rooms are gyroscopically stabilized. It can still get a bit bumpy if the weather gets rough, but on a good day we are steady.”

The flight to Bognar was only an hour and a half, which Belle and Rum spent enjoying the views and talking with Ruby and Mulan about the Zep. As the approached the landing field Mulan groaned.

“You’ve inventors, yes? Think up a way so we never have to land and I’ll be forever in your debt.”

Ruby patted her on the shoulder, “Mulan gets land sick, she’s spent most of her life in the clouds and doesn’t like solid ground beneath her feet.”

Rum was wonderstruck; “Can you imagine, Belle? Whole cities in the clouds, never having to land?”

Belle had only seen this brightly imaginative side of Rum before when it was just the two of them in the workshop. Around other people he tried to blend into the background, becoming quiet, withdrawn and constantly on alert for potential threats. The Wolf’s Bane crew treated him as no different from themselves, something Ruby had once told her that all Zep-crews were outcasts and misfits made more sense now. Here above the clouds Rum could be himself without fear of retribution, this must have been how he had been before the Steelskin. Belle was pleased that the trip had given him the opportunity to feel that freedom of self once more. It was possible that once his six month contract with her had achieved its end and he was reunited with his son that Rum would choose to leave her and join his old friend on the Zeps. She tried to feel glad that there was such a welcoming opportunity for him, but the sense of losing him from her life made her heart sink.

“Belle? You ready to disembark?”

She dragged herself from her mournful musing of a future that might not come to be and smiled at Ruby.

“Yes, I can’t wait to feel the sea breeze.”

 

The crew of the Wolf’s Bane had to unload and restock, so Ruby arranged to meet Belle and Rum in a few hours for lunch before they made the return flight. This gave them a chance for a stroll along the less popular stretch of seafront away from the crowds of people thronging around the pier escaping the London heat. Rum had playfully snarled at a small child carrying a brightly coloured pinwheel, who asked them if the circus was in town, but other than that people had let them be. They found a bench and sat in companionable silence watching the gulls lazily circle above the waves of the in-coming tide. 

“You enjoy the sea, don’t you?”

Belle glanced at Rum and found he was watching her rather than the sea.

“I do. When Mother was alive we lived in a village on the Yorkshire coast. That’s where Father’s coal mines are. Life was better then, before his knighthood and before Mother passed. We would walk on the beach most mornings combing the sand for shells and pretty pebbles,” She laughed softly at the memory, “I once found a ship’s lantern. I expect it’s still in a box in the attic at Father’s house unless he had thrown my things away.”

Rum took her hand, his thumb rubbing small circles over her knuckles. The gesture was comforting and grounded her in the moment rather than losing herself in the pain of her Mother’s death.

“You miss your Mother very much.”

“Yes. I wish I could talk to her about our designs and ideas. She would be able to see a way around some of the problems we have encountered.”

Rum drummed the fingers of his free hand on his thigh as he thought.

“I am of the opinion that solar ray capture is sound, but we aren’t getting enough heat to generate steam.”

It was a stumbling block they had been struggling to overcome. Belle stared out to sea again letting her mind drift.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be trying to fit sustainable energy to existing machines.”

From the corner of her eye she saw Rum tilt his head.

“What do you mean, Belle?”

“We’re trying to build a new power source for existing engines, steam powers everything because that’s what coal is best at producing, but what if we scrap the idea of steam all together? What if we looked at creating an electrical power source?”

“Like the clockwork battery the Mech-arms used?”

Belle first nodded, then shook her head; “Yes, no, the strength needed to wind the clockwork for something as large as, as a Zep for example, would be impossible to achieve.”

Rum clucked his tongue, “There are other ways to generate an electrical charge, spinning a magnetic field around a wire for example.”

Belle knew the parlour trick device; she had built one as a child with Mother. By turning a crank that spun the magnet you could light up a bulb. In theory the same principal could be used to power a battery, which in turn could power anything wired for electricity, but a hand crank was out of the question, they needed something bigger. Belle gasped as the thought struck her.

“Pin wheel!”

She found a baffled expression on Rum’s face as he waited for her to catch him up with her train of thought.

“If we used a pin wheel, a windmill, in place of a hand crank…”

Rum’s eyes lit up in understanding, he scrabbled in his pocket for a notebook and cussed in mild annoyance when he couldn’t find a pencil. Belle dug one out of her own pocket and took the notebook from him to frantically sketch the idea.

“We’ll need a gearing system, and a better battery…”

“Yes, yes and we’ll need to test the new metal alloys, we need something strong, but light…”

They paused for breath and their eyes met in a look of shared delight. Rum’s smile was wide; his Steelskin eyes bright with excitement, the glitter in his scales caught the sunlight making him look like an ethereal being. He was so beautiful. Belle darted forward and pressed her lips to his in a swift kiss. She pulled away as quickly and saw a brief flash of surprise in Rum’s eyes before his pupils widened in desire.

“Belle.”

He closed the distance between them and returned her initial kiss with one of his own, a tender pressure of lip against lip. Their hands found each other and their fingers threaded together, holding on tightly as if to let go would mean drifting away, as they gently kissed again and again.

A passer-by gave a mocking whistle and recalled them to their rather public setting. Rum dropped his chin to his chest to hide his face behind the curtain of his hair until the man had passed them by. Once they were alone again he glanced up shyly. Belle had a moment of panic and blurted out; “Please don’t say you are sorry.”

Rum’s tongue darted across his bottom lip and he leaned a little closer to whisper; “I am only sorry that we were interrupted.”

Belle bit her lip and gave the seafront a fast glance; “We are alone again for now.”

She leaned forward and he met her to receive the offered kiss from her lips.


	12. Chapter 12

Belle smiled fondly at the telegram from Ruby. For the most part the short message informed her that Mulan was sending her some metal samples for their windmill project, but with three simple words Ruby managed to enquire about her developing relationship with Rum. “You. Gold. Happy?”

Happy did not begin to describe the joy Belle was feeling, and she was certain that her friend would understand that. When they had met Ruby and Mulan for lunch in Bognar, Ruby’s eyes had instantly narrowed and a knowing smirk had curled her lips. She’d not said a word about her intuition until Belle had excused herself to the bathroom. Ruby followed her and raised an eyebrow at her until Belle laughed and confirmed her unspoken question.

“It won’t be easy, Belle, not with his Steelskin. People are going to think they are entitled to judge and be cruel.”

Riding on the euphoria of their brief kisses, Belle had not given that any thought, but she did now and saw the sense in Ruby’s words of warning. The idea of public censure did nothing to dampen her spirits. 

“You and Mulan manage, Rum and I will too.”

Ruby’s cheeks had faintly coloured, and she gave Belle an unabashed grin.

“We do, but we live above the clouds. Tipping the velvet is frowned upon on terra firma, and I imagine the same will be true for polishing scales.”

At the time Belle had blushed beet-red at Ruby’s colourful euphemism, but a month later she found herself wishing that she was polishing Rum’s scales. Upon their return from Bognar Rum had rather formally asked if he might be permitted to court her. Belle had granted his request less formally by cupping his face in her hands and showering his lips and cheeks in kisses. Once he’d recover from the giggling that her response caused he had asked if she wanted him to move out. He’d expressed concern that the appearance of them living under the same roof while courting would be damaging to her reputation.

“After all this is not exactly a conventional arrangement for courting couples, Belle.”

His idea would have been something a proper lady would have insisted upon, or at the very least a compromise of hiring a lady’s companion would have been reached. The first thing Belle thought about was how a change of address at this point could complication matters for getting Bae back; closely followed on the heels of that thought was a memory of her Father calling her a fallen woman. If that was how her own blood viewed her, why should she care for convention?

“I’ve experienced a conventional courtship and I did not care for it. In the eyes of society I am already a fallen woman with a broken engagement to my name. I don’t give a fig what people think.”

Wonder and admiration had danced in his eyes; “You are so brave, Belle.”

 

The rhythm of their day to day lives had changed very little. Rum still cooked, but breakfast was begun with a gentle kiss. In the workshop their windmill generator was progressing well, each small advance and success was marked with more kisses. In the evenings over their Canasta game they talked, sharing stories from their pasts and learning more about each other. The past was not a pleasant stroll down memory lane for either of them. Belle learned how Milah, Rum’s estranged wife had laughed in six year old Bae’s face when he asked if they would all be living on the Jolly Roger. Milah had been harsh to Rum that day accusing him of lacking ambition and drive, but that she had so easily mocked her own son gave Belle an instant loathing for the woman. In turn Belle told Rum of her Mother’s death and the change that had come over her Father in the years that followed; she talked of her engagement to Gaston and the bait and switch of perfect suitor to cruel fiancé. These conversations frequently ended with the Canasta game forgotten, and them holding each other’s hands tightly to chase away the demons of their past. Emotionally they were growing closer but physically they were advancing no further.

Gaston had always been insistent in taking what he saw as his due from her, no matter how hard she had resisted him. She wanted more from Rum, but wasn’t willing to press him as Gaston had pressed her. Rum had been a perfect gentleman, never allowing his hands to stray beyond the lightest of touches on her waist. From his ardent lingering looks after their kisses she was certain that he shared her yearning for more, but neither of them knew how to take the next step.

On the morning of her monthly visit to Widow Lucas Belle was certain that Rum was up to something. He hadn’t exactly hurried her out of the door after breakfast, but he had done nothing to delay her. A sense of curiosity had hovered around her mind all day and piqued further when she walked into the house to find Rum waiting for her in the hall. There was a glimmer of merriment on his face as he stood with one hand tucked behind his back. Anticipation thickened the air between them and Belle’s words deserted her, she could only raise her eyebrows at him.

With an elegant flourish Rum brought his hand out from behind his back revealing a long stemmed rose crafted from burnished metal. The petals were tightly furled as if the flower had been capture in metal before it could bloom.

“For me?”

He tilted the rose toward her; “If you’ll have it?”

She took it from his fingers and heard a tiny click; for a split second she feared the she had broken his gift, but her gasp of concern turned into one of amazement as the petals slowly unfurled and the metal rose bloomed before her eyes.

“On Rum.”

She threw herself at him, her arms winding about his neck, mindful of the rose clutched in her hand, but eager to be as close to him as possible. Her lips met his in the most demanding kiss they had every shared. Rum moaned against her lips and grasped her waist; his hands pausing for a heartbeat before slipping around to her back to pull her tight against him.

The tip of Rum’s tongue teased her lips and Belle mirrored the movement. She groaned at the sensation of their tongues sliding slickly against each other. She felt Rum’s lips twitch as if he was smiling, then he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, his tongue dipping into her mouth to flutter along her inner lip. Belle only drew back when she felt she was about to swoon. Her breath was reduced to ragged gasps. Rum was in much the same state as her, his chest heaving and a punch-drunk smile on his face.

“You like the rose then?”

Belle gave a breathy laugh; “Yes, I adore the rose.”

She pressed herself into him and felt something hard against her thigh. Rum grunted and gently pushed her hips to ease some space between their bodies.

“I, erm, I should go and finished dinner.”

He stepped away from her gently and then turned quickly on his heel and walked to the kitchen with a slight limp to his gait. Belle twirled the rose in her fingers and started up the stairs. She mused about the hardness she had felt. Rum must have had a tool in his pocket; she hoped she had not hurt him by pressing against him so enthusiastically. She stopped half way up the stairs, one foot hanging in mid-air as the reality of what she had felt hit her; that had not been a tool in Rum’s pocket. She smothered a giggle at the naïve path her thoughts had taken. She wasn’t innocent in the mechanics of the birds and the bees; for all that she had little practical experience. Their kiss had obviously addled her brain. The realisation that Rum was as affected as she gave her a giddy thrill as she skipped up the rest of the stairs to ready herself for dinner.


	13. Chapter 13

As the day that would mark the six month anniversary of Rum’s employment drew closer he became a buddle of nerves. His mood swung from excitement at the prospect of having his son back in his care to dark thoughts that Bae might not want to return to him, that he might be ashamed of his father for being a Steelskin, or angry at him for not having fought harder to prevent him from being taken in the first place.

The root of these dark musings was the fact that Bae had still not expressed any interest in the fact the Rum was working towards the requirements needed for them to reunite. Not one of his letters had made the slightest mention of Rum’s job; in fact Belle felt that the content of the letters, which Rum had allowed her to read, was repetitive, almost as if Bae was writing from a check list rather than replying to his father’s words.

Belle had done what she could to keep Rum’s spirits up, but with only a few days to go before he could present himself to the London office of the Blue Star Foundation neither tinkering nor kisses could hold his attention for more than a few moments. The only thing that brought him any peace was cooking, so Belle had asked him to instruct her in the kitchen. In a few short days Rum showed her how to make everything from bread and cakes to lamb stew and roast beef. While she doubted that she would ever make a great cook, they had produced so much food that she’d sent some over to Widow Lucas’ boarding house. A note had been sent back filled with the thanks of the guests who claimed they had never eaten so well.

On the morning of the sixteen of November Belle rose at the same time as Rum and helped him dress in his finest suit. Together they checked and checked again the satchel of documents that Mr Hatter had assured them were legally sound and met each and every stringent requirement of the Blue Star Foundation. Belle had offered to accompany Rum to the office, but he had gently refused.

“I need to do this on my own, Belle. And I think you’ll be glad of the break from my nerves.”

She’d reassured him with a brief kiss; “I’ll get our bags packed. As soon as you return we can set off for Norfolk.”

Ruby and the Wolf’s Bane were already waiting for them at the Hyde Park Zep landing. The moment that Rum had confirmation that he could retrieve Bae they would summon their Hackney driver, whose name Belle still hadn’t discovered, and make their way to Hyde Park. Rum whispered his thanks and patted the pocket of his great coat where Bae’s letters were tucked safely away. As he arranged the veil attached to his top hat over his face he said; “I don’t know how long this is going to take, Belle.”

Belle tweaked the veil in to place, it was necessary because Rum had so much pent up energy he had opted to walk to the office rather than take the Hackney.

“The sooner you go the sooner you’ll be done.”

He gave her a smile and squeezed her hand briefly before hurrying out of the door just as the hall clock struck eight.

 

The clock had struck the hour seven times more before Belle heard a sonorous crash from the workshop. She had retreated to her library around noon after narrowly avoiding slicing her hand open on a saw. Reading hadn’t entirely soothed her flustered nerves, but at least the worse that could happen to her with a book in her hands was a paper cut. At the sound of the crash she tossed the book across the room and raced down the stairs. She found Rum’s side of the workshop in disarray, which was growing worse by the moment as Rum used a large wrench to whack at everything within his reach. She glanced at the prototype windmill and felt a flash of relief that he had not taken his rage out on her work.

“Rum!”

With a raw howl he swept the wrench along his workbench, sending half finish automatons crashing to the floor. Belle didn’t think he was reacting to her calling his name, she was almost certain that he hadn’t heard her at all he was so far gone in his rage.

“Rum!”

Belle was frantic, his rage was terrible to behold and she dared not get to close to him because he did not seem aware of her presence. The wood of the workbench splintered beneath a blow so strong that the wrench spun out of Rum’s hands. Belle shrieked as the heavy tool crashed into the wall a scant two feet to the left of her head. Rum twisted around to face her and his feral appearance made her breath freeze in her chest. His lips were drawn back from his teeth in a snarl, his eyes black with rage; he looked every bit the monster that the newspapers had tried to paint Steelskins, but for the tears pouring unchecked down his face.

“Belle.”

She almost didn’t recognize the rasping sound as her own name until he repeated it. The rage drained out of him and he staggered with a sob against the shattered workbench. He was shaking and sobbing, but his recent rage made Belle reluctant to get to close to him at the moment. She edged a little closer and as calmly as she could asked; “What happened, Rum?”

“I waited hours to speak to somebody and then they took a glance t my paperwork and denied my application!”

“Did they give you a reason?”

“I asked for one, but they are not at liberty to divulge that information. I can try again in six months’ time.”

Belle was stunned. Mr Hatter had gone over the paperwork twice, Belle had sat in his office while both Mrs Cheshire and Mr Raupo had double checked their colleague’s work and pronounced it flawless. Rum had met every stipulation laid down by the law and the Blur Star Foundation. There was no reason he could not have Bae back in his care.

“There must be some mistake.”

“I said that, I tried to get them to listen to me and I was threatened with the Peelers. I too much of a coward to go back to jail, so I left.”

He slammed his fist into the shattered workbench; the force of his sudden movement caused the pocket of his great coat which had been snagged on the vice at the end of the bench to tear. Bae’s letters fluttered free and caught in the draft from the open door behind Belle. Rum let out an anguished cry as one of the letters twisted in the air and drifted closer to the forge. The hulking metal form of the forge was always hot, regardless of if they had used it that day or not. Belle ran forward and tried to snatch the precious letter from the air; she was a moment too late and the page landed on the side of the hot metal. Heedless of the danger Belle plucked the page from the side of the forge and hissed as the back of her fingers brushed against the metal. She was vaguely aware of Rum asking her if she was hurt, but she could only focus on the pale brown letters that had formed between Bae’s neatly inked words.

“Rum look!”

It took him a second to see that she wanted his attention on the letter in her hand rather than the burn across her knuckles.

“Oh that doesn’t matter. Look! Bae has sent you a secret message.”

She forgave him for snatching the letter from her hand, this revelation was far more important than mere manners. His eyes widened and his mouth slackened in shock as he read the message his son had written in lemon juice between the ink words of his official letter. Belle watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard.

“They, they have put the children to work in a mill,” There were tears in his eyes as he looked at Belle, but he dashed them away, “Those bastards at Blue Star are using my son and the other children as slave labour!”

Belle absently sucked on her burnt knuckles as she tried to process this information. The Blue Star Foundation was touted as a champion for children, it had been founded because of the moral outcry after the Steelskin incident; founded by Miss Blue, the very woman who had started the outcry against Steelskins as capable parents. Belle knew Miss Blue’s claims were rubbish, it was plain to anyone with eyes how much Rum loved his son. Until this very moment she had not thought that there might be an ulterior motive to the Miss Blue’s political and legal actions. Now the pieces slotted into place; the ruckus Miss Blue had incited against the Steelskins based upon no solid evidence other than the popular opinion forced upon the press by the Greene family that Steelskins couldn’t be trusted; the stilted and repetitive tone to Bae’s letters; the ridiculous bureaucracy that Rum had tried to comply with; and the fact that there had not been a whisper anywhere of any Steelskin getting their child back from the Blue Star Foundation. Miss Blue had seen a chance to staff her textile mill with child slave labour and society at large had bent over backwards to assist her. Belle swallowed the blie rising in her stomach.

“Are there messages in any of his other letters?”

Rum thrust half of Bae’s letters into her hands. Between them it was the work of moments to press each page against the side of the forge. Rum whimpered in distress as each and every letter revealed a hidden message from his son, each more desperate than the last. Belle felt like sobbing; Bae’s lemon juice written words told of long days in the mill, beatings, and poor food; how they were only bathed and dressed in new clothes when one of the Foundations charitable benefactors came to tour the ‘school’.

“Rum, we need to call Mr Hatter.”

It was the most sensible course of action Bellle could think of, with the weight of Cheshire and Raupo behind them they could demand a snap inspection of the Blue Star Estate in Norfolk.

“No.”

Rum’s flat refusal surprised her.

“But Rum, this is illegal we need a lawyer to help us expose Miss Blue and her abuse.”

“We don’t have time,” he was holding Bae’s most recent letter in his hand, “Bae is part of a group of children that had been sold to a coal mining company. They are to be transported North the day after tomorrow.”

A shiver of dread danced down Belle’s spine. Coal mining was no life for a child of twelve. For all his faults as a parent her Father had stubbornly refused to employ children in is mines. With precise movements of his long fingers Rum folded Bae’s letter and tucked it into the breast pocket of his suit. 

“We need to get to the Wolf’s Bane. Now.”

Belle nodded in agreement, but as they waited for their mysterious Hackney to arrive she sent two urgent telegrams in the hope that they would have some much needed support for their rescue mission.


	14. Chapter 14

In the cab they had not thought to keep their voices quiet as they discussed their plans for getting to the Blue Star Estate and how they would get Bae out. The giant Hackney driver who was usually so indifferent to them had pulled the horses up short and stepped down from his seat to come and stand so he could stare at the pair of them. Belle had slammed her hand against the seat and demanded to know why they had stopped. The giant had reached into his pocket and retrieved a portrait that he thrust in to her hand.

“My name in Hieronymus Dove. My wife Daisy worked at Oz Guild. The Blue Star took our daughters, Rose and Violet. You get them back. Please.”

Belle looked at the portrait in her hands, twin girls smiled up at her from the picture. Rum leaned in to look at the picture and then looked up at Dove.

“Get us to Hyde Park and I swear we will bring your daughters home.”

With uncharacteristic energy Dove ran back to his seat and geed the horses into action and the cab took off at a fast trot that soon became a gallop. Belle grasped Rum’s arm as the cab bounced over the cobbled streets and heard him whisper; “All of them are coming home tonight.”

 

“I knew you’d arrive in a hurry when you got the word, but I’ve never seen a Hackney pull that kind of speed.”

Ruby’s jovial smile of welcome turned to a look of cold hard determination as Belle hurriedly explained what had happened to Rum at the Blue Star London Office and their discovery in Bae’s letters. She hurried them on board, barking orders at her crew to ditch any weight they could as fast as they could. Mulan appeared by her captain’s side and asked what the plan was. Ruby grinned at her and said; “How fast can you get this Zep to Norfolk, lover? We are on a rescue mission.”

A smile curled Mulan’s lips, “Buckle up. We are going to break records, and possibly a few laws.”

“Mr Hatter of Cheshire and Raupo will solve any legal problems for you.”

Belle wasn’t sure what laws they might break, but she was certain that she could afford to pay Mr Hatter to make sure the Wolf’s Bane had no legal comeback for this night’s work. Mulan gave a delighted laugh and claimed a kiss from Ruby’s lips before running to the engine room bellowing orders at the crew as she went. Ruby took a deep breath.

“You are going to want to hang on tight when we take off; she’s pulling out all the stops.”

Ruby’s warning was not just bluster; the Wolf’s Bane lurched into the sky like a cork popping from a bottle. Once they were at flying height Ruby lifted the speaking tube on the bridge and made an announcement to her crew.

“My dear pack. You’ve heard we are on a rescue mission. I can confirm that we are. The pups of the Crocs are being sold as slaves. We will not stand for this. The bastards who think they can make any outcasts slaves are going to learn tonight that we will fight for our freedom. Ayes if you are with me!”

The replying ayes echoed around the ship and were magnified on the bridge by the speaking tubes. Belle squeezed Rum’s hand as a heartfelt whimper escaped his throat. The bridge crew who heard him did not turn their eyes from their stations, but reassured him of their determination by breaking into song. A single voice began the shanty and was quickly joined by the rest; the song carried through the still open speaking tube and was picked up by the rest of the Zep. 

“Come cheer up my lads,   
It's to glory we steer   
To add something more   
To this wonderful year   
To honour we call you,   
As free men, not bowed   
For who are so free   
As the pack of the clouds.”

The shanty ended and Ruby whistled into the speaking tube. The crew were focused on their tasks as the Wolf’s Bane rocketed toward Norfolk, all Belle could do was hang on to Rum’s hands as he stared out of the window his eyes fixed on the horizon that held the promise of his son.

Whatever miracle Mulan had performed to wring the unnatural speed from the engines was worth all the bumping and battering the Zep had taken on the trip to Norfolk. Belle was certain that the Wolf’s Bane now held the speed record for this distance, and considering the way the Telegram Officer had rapidly typed warnings of their approach to other Zeps there was going to be hell to pay, but she would worry about that later. Rum tensed as Ruby gave the order for slow and steady.

“Why are we slowing down? We are almost there!”

Ruby’s leg brace hissed and clanked as she made her was across the bridge to stand by Belle and Rum.

“We’ve come in hot and fast, and every captain that hauled arse and cleared the sky for us I owe a favour too now, but I reckon slow and steady is the way to go from here. We are on a commercial flight path that will bring us within Mulan’s sight of the Blue Star Estate.”

Belle felt Rum relax as he said; “You want to scope the place out first.”

“Of course. You’re on the Wolf’s Bane, honey. When we have prey we sniff and stalk it before we pounce.”

Mulan arrived on the bridge and took control of the periscope. Ruby leaned into Belle and whispered; “Her replacement eye gives lets her see further than most. Don’t get me wrong, Graham has a hell of an eye, but for this we need Mulan’s advantage.”

The bridge was silent; the sound of Mulan’s telescopic eye clicking was thunderously loud until she hissed a stream of syllables that Belle had to assume was her cursing in her mother tongue. Ruby sucked in a breath.

“What we got?”

Mulan pulled away from the periscope just enough to shot Ruby a stern look.

“There is a Zep moored by the mill. It’s the Jolly Roger.”

Rum’s head snapped around from the window so quickly Belle heard his neck crack.

“What is she doing here?”

Ruby threaded her fingers together and flexed her arms in front of her making her knuckles pop.

“Makes a sort of sense. Best way to move the kids without questions is the air and no honest Zep crew would take that job.”

Ruby’s guess about the pirate Zep was likely correct, but Belle knew the ‘her’ Rum had meant was not the Jolly Roger, but his estranged wife. As Ruby quietly questioned Mulan about the state of the pirate Zep Belle softly asked Rum; “Will Bae recognize his mother?”

“I don’t know. It’s been six years. Maybe he will? Maybe she will?”

The presence of the Jolly Roger was complication enough for their mission, but that Bae might meet the mother who had abandoned him was an extra worry for Rum and Belle. Ruby and Mulan finished their quiet discussion and Ruby stood upright to address the bridge at large.

“The Jolly is night tethered. She ain’t going anywhere in a hurry. We are going to drift on by as if we are a passenger loaded Zep on a normal flight, then circle back sharpish and park right on top of the pirate bastard so she can’t go anywhere.”

Belle took a second to consider Ruby’s plan and without thinking asked the question she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to.

“If we are going to be park above the Jolly, how are we going to get to the ground, and keep the element of surprise?”

Ruby gave her a wolfish grin and answer that made Belle’s stomach drop.

“Dip and drop.”


	15. Chapter 15

If Belle lived to be three hundred she would still hate Ruby for this plan, and would have told her so if the wind from the open bay door hadn’t been whipping at her face. She hadn’t even got the comfort of clinging to Rum as they waited for the Wolf’s Bane to perform the precarious dip that would bring them with in feet of the ground; Ruby had made it clear that they each had to jump alone, so as not to risk pulling joints out of place as they fell. Rum’s face was a bilious green, but he jumped on his cue, and Belle’s heart lurched as he disappeared into the inky black of the night. 

“Just remember to roll when you land!”

Belle’s reply to Ruby’s last minute advice was inaudible over the wind, but contained many of the vulgarities six months of living with Rum had taught her.

She landed and rolled into a puddle.

“Shush! I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Belle blinked the water out of her eyes and focused on the reassuring figure of her lover. Rum’s skin glittered in the pale moon light as he hauled her from the water. The words she’d been waiting to say for months spilled from her lips in a whisper.

“I love you.”

Rum pulled her to him in a tight embrace, “I am yours forever Belle.”

Graham’s low whistle broke the moment and they joined the ranks of the Wolf’s Bane crew who had come with them on this part of their mission. The shadow of the Zep covered their run towards the brightly lit house and as Ruby’s ship slid into position above the Jolly Roger they made their final dash toward their goal.

There was a burst of movement from the house. A crowd of small figures tumbled from a ground floor window in the east wing and began charging across the lawn to the Zep-crew. Even at this distance Belle could see the children were dirty and thin. Rum doubled his speed and somehow found the breath to shout for his son. From the brightly lit French windows adults began to chase the children, the Zep-crew angled themselves to intercept and quickly scuffles broke out. Belle was herding the children toward her and Rum a safe distance from the fighting when a loud angry voice rang out.

“Stop this at once! You have people have no right to be here!”

Miss Blue was stood on the terrace her hands a sneer of distaste on her face. The children cowered behind Belle and Rum, a tiny girl of no more than seven tugged Belle’s sleeve, “Please don’t send us back to her.”

“Don’t worry we are taking you home to your parents.”

“Their parents are monsters!”

Rum had been kneeling down hugging Bae to him, at Miss Blue’s words he rose to his feet and strode toward the irate moral champion. The light from the house caused his skin to gleam, and his eyes glinted with and hard, cold rage.

“I might look like a monster, but you madam are the true beast here.”

Miss Blue cringed away from Rum before he had come within ten feet of her.

“Stay away from me you freak! Come any closer and I will have you arrested.”

“Oh darhling people are going to be arrested, but Mr Gold will not be among that number.”

Every head turned to stare at the woman who had strolled out of the house to stand behind Miss Blue. She was a tall imposing woman with striking black and white hair. As Miss Blue spluttered indignantly the newcomer causally lit a cigarette.

“Oh do stop babbling, woman. Who I am is not important, who I have brought with me is.”

The lawn was suddenly swarming with Peelers who made short work of rounding up anyone who was not a child or part of the Wolf’s Bane crew. By mutual consent Belle and Rum were placed in charge of the children and led them to the Zep landing where Ruby’s ship had touched down now there was no longer a chance of the Jolly Roger trying to get away.

The Zep-crew ‘acquired’ food and blankets from the house for the children, and since several of the Peelers helped them carry their pilfered supplies Belle decided that there was no need to worry about them getting in trouble for their actions. Bae was busy devouring a chunk of bread and firing questions at her and Rum in between mouthfuls.

“Are me and Papa going to live with you? What’s your house like? Are we flying home on the Zep?”

“Bae! Slow down.”

Rum’s words were delivered with a warm smile; Bae swallowed his mouthful and grinned.

“Did you really jump from the Zep Papa?”

“Oh he is a lively one isn’t he?”

The tall lady with black and white hair was leaning against the door, an unlit cigarette in her hand. Rum wrapped him arm around Bae and Belle said; “I am not sure we have been introduced.”

The woman gave a rasping laugh; “No we have not my dear, but you did send me an urgent telegram less than six hours ago and here I am, so I would say we can drop the formalities.”

Belle blinked at that, she had sent two telegrams before she and Rum had left Stepney; one had been to Mr Hatter, who had been in constant communication with the Wolf’s Bane and was gathering the families of the children ready to meet them back in London. For the other all she had to give the operator was a nome de plume, ah.

“Hello Jinx.”

“Cara De Vil. I thought you would like to know that Miss Blue and the pirates have all been arrested along with one Mr Gaston Legume, who was here to oversee the transport of the children to his family’s coal mines.”

Belle felt nothing at the mention of her former finance’s name, other than a vague sense of satisfaction that her suspicion he would be involved had been proved correct. Bae looked up at his father and said; “Mother was here. She said I could go with them and be a sky-pirate. Captain Jones cuffed me around the ear when I said I’d rather work in the coal mines.”

Belle heard Rum’s teeth grind together at the news. Jinx raised a perfectly arched eyebrow; “I am sure that Inspector Lestrade could be persuaded to give you five minutes with the pirate, should you wish address the offence against your boy.”

Rum shook his head; “I wouldn’t lower myself to his level.”

Jinx shrugged, “As you wish.”

Rum was drew breath to ask her something, but paused when Bae suddenly asked; “Why are you called Jinx?”

She gave a throaty chuckle; “When I started writing I signed my work Gin and an X for a kiss, my printer misread my hand writing and set the words as Jinx. I rather liked it so I adopted it as my pen name.”

“That’s brilliant.”

Rum squeezed Bae’s shoulder and quickly took his chance to say. “Thank you Jinx, for everything you did tonight. I don’t know how we’ll ever be able to repay you.”

Jinx cast a deliberate eye over Belle and Rum; “An invite to the wedding will be wonderful.”

With another chuckle she left Belle and Rum to their shared blushes. 

“Papa, who’s getting married?”

 

_One Year Later_

Bae rolled his eyes for the millionth time and hissed, “Papa, stop fidgeting.”

His anxious father still for all of two seconds then quietly asked, “What if she doesn’t come?”

Bae gave him a disbelieving look that was wasted since Rum’s eyes were staring at the floral display. Thankfully the organ started playing and Bae glanced behind them. Belle was walking up the aisle on the arm of her father.

“Wow Papa, she looks beautiful.”

By tradition Rum did not look at his bride to be until she was stood by his side. The whole church sighed at the dreamy look of bliss on his face. The vicar cleared his throat.

“Dearly beloved we are gathered here today…”


End file.
